


Hope Is Not Dead: Part 1 (Not in chronological order)

by barneyslefteyebrow



Category: Indie Writing
Genre: Angst, F/F, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gay, Original Character(s), Self-Doubt, not too much else
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-25
Updated: 2018-07-25
Packaged: 2019-06-15 23:52:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15424398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/barneyslefteyebrow/pseuds/barneyslefteyebrow
Summary: An original story. It is not too edited, was written at 4 AM, but I am somewhat proud of it nonetheless.





	Hope Is Not Dead: Part 1 (Not in chronological order)

There was something about the way Hope stared. Those warm brown eyes captured me from the beginning. Her touch felt like small strikes of lightning, even if it was a quick hand. My best friend, she was my best friend; and I had fallen for her. I had fallen deep into those brown eyes, let myself be consumed by the calm voice, let her lively energy spark something inside of me.

“Amelia, I hope you know that no matter what, we’ll always be friends.” What did she mean? What in the world could she mean. Her voice was light, and her hand slid over mine, as if she was about to break terrible news to me. The shaking of every word was light but noticeable, and her eyes were clouded, the brown drowned in sadness.

“Are you alright?” I asked. No answer. She leaned forward, her face falling into my shoulder. I laid down with her, my arms wrapped around her trembling body. My shirt grew wet where her face lay, her sobs escaping and rocking my entire body.

“Hope, Hope.” I pulled her tighter. “Everything will be all right.” 

“But will it.” She spoke in between cries of sadness, and absolute sadness. “Amelia, will it. No.” She pushed her face deeper into my shoulder. 

“Even if it won’t, I’ll be here for you.” 

“In the end, no one is truly there for me.” The life was drained; it was as if a corpse was speaking. “Am I even truly alive?” The question was a punch to the gut, a hard drive into my face.

“Hope, you are the most alive person I know. You are the beacon of light in this town.” 

“The beacon for who? No one.” 

“The beacon for me.” She froze, pulling her face from me, casting her eyes deep into mine. God, her eyes. “Hope, you are the true beacon of light. You are something else entirely. You are true hope.” 

The words had affected her, but how much? Was the weight in her heart still pulling her down?

“Am I even truly alive?” She repeated the question under her breath over and over again, sometimes directed at me, sometimes at no one.

“Hope, you are alive.” She would ask the question again, and I would answer the same. Over and over, the battle of question and answer; yet, the answer never won.  
“You are alive.” I muttered, close to her ear. Over and over. Maybe she needed to hear something else. “Hope, you are not dead.” She sighed.

Her voice was uneven, but she spoke again. "Am I alright? Am I alive? What's wrong with me? There's too many questions Amelia, too many!" Hope continued crying into my shoulder, pounding his fists lightly against my body as her volume increased, but I sat unmoved and steady for her.

"You may not be alright, but you are not dead. Repeat after me, please. I am not dead."

She didn't answer. 

"Hope, I am not dead. Please, repeat that." 

"I... I am..." Maybe she wanted to get the words out, maybe her mind wasn't allowing it.

"Don't fight the words, let them make it past the obstacles in your mind. I am not dead."

"I am not.. I am not dead." She stumbled over her words as the words finally escaped from her mouth, each syllable sounding like a struggle.

"I am not dead," I muttered quietly, hoping she would repeat again. 

“I am not dead.” These words reverberated close to my ear, over and over again. She was so close, growing closer with each word. “I am not dead, and neither are you. We are not dead together, and I love it.” Her hopeless voice had returned to hope in multiple ways- to her spirit with hope, and to actual Hope. Hope Garrett was not dead and neither was I; because of each other.

**Author's Note:**

> There is more to the story of Hope Is Not Dead, so leave a comment or kudos if you want more!


End file.
